It is 31 May, and in three weeks’ time the sun turns round and heads south, but today has dawned grey, chilly, and windy again. In the garden the plants are doing surprisingly well, although some are clearly struggling to flourish.
The geraniums are winners and about to burst into abundant flower!
Two more winners, with forests of flowers!
Giants at two foot high already, and they are not yet flowering!
Last week, one year ago, we scattered my mother’s ashes in a place which she loved. But those words don’t seem quite right. They make the action sound trivial, like throwing something away.
It was high up, the wind swirled and took the ashes, some touched us, and then there was silence. And I felt a release, a smile, and a travelling. The soughing of the wind again, never to be forgotten.
Yesterday, as I sat in St Mary le Strand, I remembered in the blue light, and then I lit two candles for my sister and me.
My mother woke me this morning. I didn’t open my eyes, I just lay still, and remembered the sound of her voice, and her scent. She came in the moment a year ago when we scattered her ashes – the wind swirled and soughed, and then it was silent. I sensed release, escape, peace. The church says ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust’ but it didn’t feel like that and today I remember it also says ‘in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life’ and I wonder if it could be true. My mother certainly believed it.
She loved flowers and today I send her some roses from the garden.